


As You Wish

by mynameisnoneya



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Birthday Sex, Birthday Smut, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Smut, Friends to Lovers, News Media, Oral Sex, Porn with Feelings, References to Jane Austen, TV News, The Princess Bride References, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-07
Updated: 2017-07-07
Packaged: 2018-11-28 22:33:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11427600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mynameisnoneya/pseuds/mynameisnoneya
Summary: Sansa Stark is a workaholic, highly ambitious journalist who has her heart set on a news anchor job at WGOT-TV.  When Jon Snow, a handsome, well-built cameraman comes to work at the station, Sansa finds herself wondering what life could be like with someone by her side.  And when her birthday rolls around again this year, a very lonely Sansa wonders if her wish just might come true.





	As You Wish

**Author's Note:**

  * For [vivilove](https://archiveofourown.org/users/vivilove/gifts).



> This birthday-themed JonSa story was written for my best friend, vivilove, in honor of her birthday today. Here's to _(bleep)_ years of friendship - to the end of the line, pal!
> 
> Please note that I made sure to tag any and all characters that appear in this work, whether they have a speaking role or not. 
> 
> General disclaimer: GoT characters and quotes belong to GRMM - I own nor claim nothing!
> 
> If you enjoyed this work, please let me know by leaving comments and kudos!

Shoving her house keys into the lock, Sansa Stark burst through the front door of her small studio flat, exhausted beyond belief after finishing a grueling thirteen-hour shift today at the local television station, WGOT-TV.  Although she loved every facet of her job as a sports reporter for the station, Sansa longed for the day when she could actually take a vacation.  In fact, as she tossed her keys into the white ceramic dish on top of the bar separating her living area and galley kitchen, Sansa sighed heavily as she shucked out of her heavy parka and winter boots, slowly peeling layer upon layer of clothing off her lithe frame.  Winter had come to Winterfell, folks, and it had rolled on into town with a vengeance. 

As she trucked around the bar, headed straight for the corner of her kitchen counter where she kept her bottles of wine, Sansa caught a glimpse of the photo from the travel magazine she had taped up to the refrigerator over two months ago.  The tropical destination displayed on the ripped-out page, full of crystal-clear blue waters and bright white sandy beaches, called out to her.  Reaching into the cabinet and snagging a wine glass, Sansa placed it on the counter, grabbing the half-consumed bottle of chianti, and poured herself enough crimson liquid to both warm her innards and to help her forget about today.

You see, today was Sansa’s twenty-sixth birthday.  And once again this year, Sansa had no plans and no one with whom to celebrate.  Her father and mother were already gone.  So too were both her oldest and her youngest brothers.  She still had a younger sister and brother alive, but Sansa and her siblings weren’t close.  Over the years since their parents died, Sansa really didn’t have much contact with them anymore.  Arya, her sister, drifted into some weird cult, moving in with the leader ( _Jackie?  Jaqen?)_ who perpetually referred to himself as “the man” when he spoke.  Her younger brother, Bran, lost touch with reality a few years ago, believing himself to be the reincarnation of some ancient prince and that he could see into the future.  Thinking about Bran, Sansa made a mental note to try to go by the institution to check on him this weekend after she finished reporting on the Direwolves versus the Lions hockey game.

People in the world of journalism were beginning to notice Sansa.  Her flaming red hair, her azure eyes, and her pale skin never got her noticed in high school, but damn her if it didn’t make her stand out while on air.  Sansa’s skills were sharp, her ability to handle high-pressure situations was sublime, and the work she put into her body while at the gym was worth it.  There was even a rumor floating around the newsroom just last week that Sansa might land herself the premium, most sought-after gig at the station, the soon-to-be-open news anchor seat alongside, Jaime Lannister, WGOT-TV’s hottest male reporter in the entire history of the television channel.

Guzzling a hearty gulp of wine, Sansa spun around to lean against her kitchen counter, cocking her head to the side as she intently stared at the beautiful woman lying on the beach in the travel ad.  The model’s bronzed skin glistened in the vivid sunlight while she lounged peacefully by the shore, and her drop-dead gorgeous, finely sculpted male companion, wearing perhaps the tightest swimsuit Sansa had ever seen, stood stoically beside the beach babe’s lounge chair as he handed the woman a margarita.  What Sansa wouldn’t give to be on that beach right now.

Sansa looked over at the digital clock on her microwave as she took another sip of her wine.  11:38 PM.  In twenty-two more minutes, her birthday would disappear into the vortex of time, yet one more day that vanished without so much as a card or a phone call or even a congratulation from a friend or coworker. 

But truly, Sansa wasn’t surprised.  She was so focused on getting ahead in her career that she didn’t really have time for friends or coworkers.  Or boyfriends, for that matter.  After getting out of college, all she cared about was climbing the corporate ladder of journalism, doing whatever and whomever it took to get to where she was right now.  After paying enough dues, she finally had earned her place as an actual reporter in the newsroom just four months ago, dumping her gig as one of the flunkies relegated to life in the bowels of the station, writing copy for someone else to read on-air.

Yes, it was all coming together for Sansa now.  After years of grunt work, years of taking whatever shitty assignments that her bosses tossed her way, and years of dealing with sexual harassment or jealous coworkers, Sansa stood on the precipice of success.  And the truly sad part about the whole affair was that Sansa had absolutely no one with whom she could share said success.

Closing her eyes as she sighed heavily at that thought, Sansa cast a birthday wish into the universe, fully expecting it to be ignored as always.  She wished that one day she would escape her lonely existence and find true love.  She wished that she was not in the frozen wasteland of Winterfell, struggling to make ends meet, working her way up the food chain no matter what the cost to her soul.  She wished that the handsome man in the picture was someone else.  She wished that she could trade in that model with the blond buzz cut and the over-sized, steroid-fluffed muscles for a head full of dark brown curls and a sleek, well-defined body just like…

Shit.  She was doing it again.  Pfft.  She was lusting after her colleague at the station.  Sansa knew that she really should stop that.  Like, right now.  Because she already knew that a woman in her line of work had to choose.  Career or love.  There was no way in hell that she could ever allow herself to think that she could both have her cake and eat it too.

Jerking the open bottle of wine off the kitchen counter, Sansa carried both the bottle and almost-consumed glass of wine with her as she padded through her living room and down the hallway to her bathroom.  She sat them down on the bathroom sink, cranking on the hot water, stripping off her charcoal gray power suit and light pink blouse as the bathroom began to fill with steam.  And just as she was about to unclasp her bra, Sansa heard a knock at her front door.

“What in the…” Sansa grumbled, wondering who in the hell would be standing on her doorstep this late on a Friday night.  Snorting in amusement, she figured it was probably someone looking for Oberyn, her flashy, handsome bisexual neighbor who almost always had a party in motion.  Reaching behind her bathroom door, Sansa quickly grabbed her fuzzy, hot-pink bathrobe that landed just above the knee.  She shut off the water just as the second round of knocking sounded down the hallway.  Trotting out of the bathroom and down the hallway, Sansa hastily threw on her bathrobe and wrapped the belt around her waist, finished tying it as she peeped through the hole in her front door.

“Jon?” she gasped to herself in disbelief.

On her doorstep stood the hot-as-fuck camera guy whom Sansa had been secretly crushing on ever since his finely sculpted ass joined the WGOT-TV news team.  Jon Snow was literally the sexiest, sweetest man that she had ever had the privilege to meet.  He had been hired just a couple of months ago, and in his short tenure at the station, Jon had established a friendly rapport with Sansa right from the start.  Most afternoons when Sansa showed up at the station for her shift, Jon made it a point to talk to her before she began to review the daily headlines and to prepare her notes for her upcoming nightly feature.  Although they had not really had the opportunity to hang out after hours, Jon had invited her a handful of times to shoot darts or to sing karaoke with him and some of the other camera crew members over the last month or so.  Careful not to piss where she ate, as Margaery Tyrell, the fashion and social events reporter would say, Sansa politely declined Jon’s offers.  Sansa had only one thing on her one-track mind, and that was landing that news anchor gig.  Getting side-tracked by a handsome pair of chocolate brown eyes and a shaggy mop of dark brown, chin length curls was not on her news feed.

As Sansa slowly unlocked her front door, she barely cracked it open, peering at her sinfully gorgeous colleague.  “Jon, what are you doing here?” she asked, trying to hide her half-naked body behind the door as she stared at him.

“Hey, Sansa!” Jon beamed, whipping his arm from behind his back.  In his hand was a petite arrangement of calla lilies and red tulips.  Holding out the arrangement like he was making an offering to the gods, Jon’s impossibly white smile all but gleamed as he ducked his head downward, looking at Sansa through those luscious, long black lashes.  “Sorry to barge in on you announced like this,” he began, slightly rocking back and forth on the heels of his black boots, “But I tried calling your cell phone, and it went straight to voice mail.”

Trying to resist the urge to smile, Sansa widened her door a bit more so she could reach into the hallway to accept the flowers.  She lowered her head, sniffing the pleasing aroma.  “What are these for?”

“Why, your birthday, of course,” Jon grinned.  He sure did look terribly pleased with himself.

“How…how in the world did you know?” Sansa gaped, her perfectly-manicured eyebrows knitting together in confusion.

“Uh, well…” Jon momentarily stammered, reaching up behind his neck with his hand and scratching nervously, “I heard from Margaery that today was your birthday, and I didn’t want to let the day get away without me saying ‘Happy Birthday.’  So, happy birthday, Sansa.”

Holy shit.  The man drove all the way to Sansa’s apartment in the bitter cold, stopping along the way to brave the freezing temperatures and the chance of frost bite to buy her flowers.  That had to mean something, right?

“Thank you, Jon,” Sansa smiled at him, demurely titling her head to the side for a moment as she tried to process his obviously more-than-friendly gesture of affection.  Sansa had told herself over and over again ad nauseam since Harry, the station owner’s son, had broken things off with her because she was more focused on her career than worrying about fulfilling his needs, that getting involved with a colleague always led to heartache. 

Yet, right here, right now as Jon’s beautiful, bearded face stared back at her, Sansa wondered if maybe she needed to reevaluate her policy on getting involved with a coworker.  It was her birthday today, after all, and she had no plans other than a hot bath and a hot date with her man-in-the-box.  Here on her doorstep stood the very object of her most recent string of self-satisfying fantasies.

_Well, happy birthday to me after all…_

“Would you like to come in?” Sansa blurted out before she could stop herself, biting her bottom lip, grimacing at how forward she must sound to Jon.

“Uh…sure.  Yeah, uh, I mean if I’m not interrupting anything…” he fumbled about as he licked his bottom lip, his tongue quickly tracing the outline of his mouth.

“No, no.  You’re fine,” Sansa giggled as she finally opened her door all the way, allowing Jon to enter and to get a full view of her state of undress.  She thoroughly enjoyed the way his friendly eyes widened then narrowed, a feral look consuming his features for the briefest of moments before he pulled his shite together.  Even though Sansa wasn’t quite sure how far Jon wanted to take things with her, her reporter’s instinct was telling her that Jon hadn’t just stopped by to wish her well on her birthday.

Besides, it is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of flowers while standing on a single woman’s doorstep at almost midnight must be in want of a tumble.

“Nice place,” Jon muttered as Sansa closed the door behind him and disappeared into her kitchen.  He shirked off his black overcoat and black wool scarf, hanging them on the row of hooks posted by the front door.

“Thanks,” she replied as she rooted around her cabinets for something to put the flowers into for safe keeping, “Please; have a seat.”

Jon nervously cleared his throat at he walked into her living room, seating himself on the light blue sofa.

“Would you like a drink?” Sansa offered, peering at him through the space over her bar.  “I have wine in the bathroom or beer in the fridge.”

Hearing her description of her alcohol selection, Jon laughed heartily.  “Sure, a beer sounds great, thanks.”

Trimming and fluffing the small bouquet to her satisfaction, Sansa arranged the lilies and tulips, placing the crystal vase on top of her kitchen table.  She opened the fridge and grabbed a bottle of beer, rummaging around her utility drawer until she found the bottle opener.  Once she popped off the top, Sansa exited her kitchen, walking over to Jon and seating herself next to him on the couch.  “Here you go,” she said with a smile as she handed him the open container.

“Thank you,” Jon responded, taking the beer from Sansa and taking a long drag off it before placing it on her coffee table.  He rubbed his palms on the tops of his jeans-clad thighs right before his knee accidentally bumped into Sansa’s virtually naked leg.

Upon contact, Sansa almost shivered when that familiar tingling sensation started to dance around in her lower belly.  Sitting on her couch while almost undressed right in front of her handsome male colleague, she knew she was playing with fire.  But, to be honest, building a fire sure sounded pretty damn good on a cold night like tonight.

“So, would you like to hang out here a bit?” Sansa pondered, breaking what seemed like hours of awkward silence, “Maybe catch a move on Netflix or something?”

“I’d like that,” Jon nodded with a huge smile, catching himself though as Sansa moved to rise from her spot on the couch, “But I probably should go soon.”

“Why is that?”

“Well, it’s late.”

“It was late when you showed up with flowers, Jon.”

“Yeah, well…it’s your birthday.  And I wanted to -”

“What do you want, exactly?” Sansa interrupted her coworker as she narrowed her mischievous eyes at him.

“What do I want?” Jon answered her question with a question.

Quirking her lips into a lecherous grin, Sansa knew she had Jon on the ropes.  He had come all the way over to her apartment tonight to bring her flowers, yes, but it was obvious that Jon wanted more.  He wanted _way_ more than he was letting on right now.

 _Screw it,_ Sansa thought to herself as she watched Jon struggling to formulate a believable reason for his late-night visit that did not have the words “booty” and “call” in the same sentence.  Today was her birthday, and although she didn’t have much time on the birthday clock left, Sansa wanted to open a present.  A slightly-shorter-than-six-foot tall present wearing a deliciously snug black dress shirt and impossibly tight blue jeans, that is.

“Yes, Jon.  What _do_ you really want?”

Jon’s chest began to rise and fall more rapidly as Sansa scooted closer to him.  “I…I want…”

“Want…” Sansa all but purred.

“This,” Jon rasped as he abandoned control of his emotions.  He reached out to her, shoving his hands into her long, copper hair, pulling Sansa impossibly close to him, as he hurriedly brought her mouth to his.

Embarrassed at how wantonly she moaned when Jon’s lips crashed into hers, Sansa gave him as good as she got, weaving her manicured nails into his curls, angling her head to the side as she swiped her tongue along his lips.  Battling for dominance, they all but devoured each other.

Finally breaking the kiss long enough to come up for air, Jon stared deeply into Sansa’s lust-blown pupils, licking his swollen lips as his chest heaved from the exertion, “Would you like to unwrap your present now?” he teased her, gently pushing a stray strand of her auburn locks out of her face.

_Hell.  Yes._

“Absolutely,” Sansa gasped as Jon released her and rose to his feet.  The lust coursing in her veins, she also stood, closing the distance between them as he spread his long arms outward, offering himself to her like he was laid out on a silver platter.  Oh, he’d be laid out soon enough, that was for sure.

Worrying her bottom lip as she decided what to remove first, Sansa opted to go for the belt.  Deftly she undid the silver buckle and loosened the button to his jeans.  Then, she took her time undoing each one of the buttons on his dress shirt, groaning without an ounce of shame as she laid eyes on his bare chest.  The man was cut.  Like, _seriously_ cut.  She shoved the shirt off his shoulders, licking her lips as he quickly pulled his arms out of the sleeves.  Sansa grabbed the shirt, tossing it behind her onto the living room floor.

“Bedroom,” she commanded, taking Jon’s hand and leading him down the hallway.

“As you wish,” he replied with a grin.  Entering her bedroom, Jon jerked Sansa to him, swallowing the yelp of surprise that dared to escape her lips.  Sansa’s head was swimming with both lust and adrenaline as he undid the belt on her bathrobe, sliding his hands inside, wrapping his strong hands around her waist.  Holy shit.  The man could kiss like nobody’s business.

Sansa reared back suddenly, gasping for oxygen as Jon undid the clasp of her bra.  “Wait a minute,” she panted as he scooted his hands around to her breasts, lowering his head to nip and bite at her long neck, “I thought I was the one unwrapping my present.”

“Want you so badly,” Jon moaned in between nibbles, his right-hand ghosting down her side until he slipped it into the waistband of her lacey pink underpants, “Can’t stand it much longer, love.”

 _Jesus, Mary and Joseph._ The sound of his utterly wrecked, sexed-out bedroom voice combined with the sensation of his nimble fingers gently parting her folds right before he inserted his finger into her cunny sent a surge of heat straight to her core.

And with the admission from her live-and-in-person birthday gift that he wanted her just as badly as she wanted him, Sansa stripped Jon bare so fast he barely had time to sit down before she was shoving his skin-tight boxer briefs to his ankles, pouncing on her grand prize like the proverbial bird on the worm.

“Fuck, Sansa,” Jon hissed as she lowered her mouth to his engorged cock.  She licked the bead of precum off the slit with the tip of her tongue, placing a delicate kiss on the tip of his head before engulfing his length with her warm, wet mouth, all the while pumping him at the base of his cock.  “This is…it’s your…your day, love…let me...”

Popping off his dick with a little extra force, Sansa enjoyed the slick sounds of her mouth and the way Jon gasped in pleasure, “And your point is?”

“I want to take care you,” Jon vowed as he carded his hands through her thick, ruddy curls, tugging on her hand to get her off his manhood.  “On your back, if you please.  It’s time for the birthday girl’s wish to come true.”  With that joke, Jon swiftly scooped Sansa up into his arms, spinning her around and lowering her to the center of her queen-size bed.

“Jon, wait…you don’t…holy shit,” Sansa mewled when Jon dropped to his knees, grasping her knees and opening her to his hungry gaze.  Without warning, Jon dove in head-first into her sopping cunny like a man half-starved.  With each and every lick and suck of her folds, she saw stars.  “God, Jon…don’t stop,” she pled as he stuffed first one then two fingers into her tight little hole, curving his graceful fingers, hitting that sweet spot _right there_ over and over again as he all but ravaged her womanhood.  And just as the pleasure building in her gut consumed her, Jon abruptly removed his fingers, yanking her by the hips, driving her pussy into his face and fucked her with his tongue as she rode out the glorious high of her climax.

“Jon…just… inside me…condoms,” Sansa mumbled, her post-orgasmic brain not quite able to process a complete, coherent sentence as she wildly waved toward her nightstand drawer.

“Could eat you all night,” Jon murmured as he kissed the inside of her thighs.  His full, dark beard tickled her flesh as he began to make his way up her body, pausing momentarily to place a few feathery-light kisses right above her mound.  “Don’t know if I’m ready to fuck you senseless or to feast on you again.”

Dirty talk.  The man was invoking dirty talk.  Apparently, Jon had brought her an additional birthday present tonight that he hadn’t bothered to mention earlier.

“Option one, please,” Sansa begged, pulling Jon by the hair until his head hovered over hers.  Jerking his lips down to meet hers, she kissed him with all the passion she could muster, tasting her tangy essence in the process.

“As you wish,” Jon replied when he broke their kiss, grinning from ear to ear.

“Smug, are we?” Sansa snorted as Jon rummaged around in her nightstand drawer, unearthing a foil packet from the depths of its tomb.

“Nah, I’m not smug,” he teased, ripping open the packet with his teeth, tossing the wrapper over his shoulder to the floor and rolling the condom onto his rock-hard shaft, “Just thinking about how good you’ll look when you’re wrapped around my cock.”

“Jesus, you and that mouth of yours ought to…oh, God,” Sansa tried to speak, her words dying on the vine as he parted her legs and sank into her cunny.  As he bottomed out inside her, Jon thankfully paused his highly anticipated and most welcomed invasion long enough for her brain to catch up to her body.

“So good…” Jon sighed as he began to pull in and out, thrusting unhurriedly into Sansa as she rocked her hips in time with his movements, “You keep moving like that, though, and it’ll be all over.”

“Like this?” Sansa challenged, arching her back and writhing just so, her pubic bone meshing with his as she swirled her hips.

“Fuck, yes…like that,” Jon whimpered, his brown eyes widening in pleasure.  “God, you’re so beautiful, Sansa.”  The look of raw, unadulterated passion that Jon sported almost took her breath away.  As her hands traveled along the ridges and planes of his chest, Sansa wondered if this was a one-time thing for Jon.  Did he just show up on her doorstep, hoping for a quickie?  Or did he want something more from this birthday sexcapade?

And just as Sansa’s reporter instincts were about to kick in, her natural curiosity and overactive imagination poised to kill her ability to enjoy the moment, her thoughts were put into check the instant that Jon suddenly lifted her legs onto his shoulders, bracing his weight on his forearms, and began to pound into her in earnest.

“Jon!  Ungh…please…right there!” Sansa cried out in pleasure, the feeling of his cock scraping along her inner walls almost driving her mad.  Grasping his ass with her hands, Sansa held on for dear life, her blue eyes all but rolling into the back of her head as Jon took her.

“Sansa, please,” Jon implored her, the sounds of skin slapping skin filling her bedroom as they chased down their release, “Come for me.”  With that demand, Jon leaned onto his left arm, using his right hand to vigorously massage Sansa’s throbbing clit.  “Come on baby, come for me.  Come for me again.”

“Yes!  Yes!  YES!” Sansa screamed as she peaked yet again, her nails digging into Jon’s bare ass so hard she knew that he would be sporting marks tomorrow.

“Fuck, Sansa…mmm, oh, uh!” Jon stuttered as his orgasm enveloped him.  He haphazardly thrusted a couple more times into Sansa before his whole body began to quiver.  Flopping onto his back beside her, Jon panted, his chest heaving as he tried to regain control of his breath.

Neither one spoke in the dimly lit bedroom, the only light wafting in through the partially drawn curtains covering the two windows.  Sansa didn’t really know what to say to Jon as they lay there completely naked, side-by-side in the darkness.  Did he want to bail out on her now that the deed was done?  ( _Please, don’t go._ ).  Did he expect to spend the night?  ( _Would he want to?_ )  Did she want him to?  ( _Yes.  Yes, I would._ )

“Happy birthday, Sansa,” Jon whispered softly as he rolled over onto his side facing her.  Lifting her arm, he wrapped it around his neck as he laid his head down on her bare breasts.  One of his arms snaked underneath her while the other one draped across her stomach.

Sansa sighed as she played with his slightly sweaty curls, scratching at his scalp as she ran her hands through his hair.  “You have no idea.”

“So, about that movie…” Jon paused, lifting his head to lock eyes with her.

 _This is it,_ Sansa grimaced inwardly, _This is where he takes off.  Just a fuck and run.  Of course._

“Yeah?” she willed herself to reply with a steady, unemotional tone.

“Wanna watch _The Princess Bride?_ ” Jon asked as he lazily traced circles on her flat stomach while staring down into her face.

Sansa’s eyes widened in shock, “Yeah, I do.  It’s one of my favorites.”

“Mine too,” Jon smiled widely.

Reaching up to tuck a loose brown curl behind Jon’s ear, Sansa swallowed hard to keep her rapidly rising emotions in check.  “Popcorn?” she squeaked, willing herself to choke back the wetness daring to pool in the corner of her sky-blue eyes.

“Sure,” Jon smiled before he grabbed a chaste kiss and rose from the bed.  “And I was thinking…” he added as he walked toward her bathroom, obviously going to get cleaned up, “I don’t have to be back at the station till one tomorrow…so, if you’re up for it, I could make you breakfast?  It would be part of my birthday gift to you.”  He turned to look at her just as he stood in the doorway to the bathroom.  God help her, but that man was fine.

And in that very moment as the image of the lady lying on the beach in the photo on her fridge suddenly popped into her head, Sansa threw caution to the wind while wondering if in fact her birthday wish had come true.

“As you wish,” she answered with an enormous grin as Jon smiled in return, spinning on his heels and disappearing into her bathroom.

_This is Sansa Stark, reporting for WGOT News._

**Author's Note:**

> I hoped you liked your birthday surprise, vivilove!


End file.
